Bubble Pop Electric
by bullets-embrace
Summary: Kurt and Brody are doing the post-Thanksgiving dishes, and Rachel's stepped out for some air. With the help of a cheap bottle of washing up liquid and too many bubbles, can the boys turn their manual labour into something way more interesting? *[completely indulgent Kurt/Brody shipping. The Klaine breakup has reduced me to this. And I don't mind it so much.]*


Kurt was _this _close to snatching the plastic Ziplock bag from the counter top and barfing into it. Self-basting turkey be damned; Kurt was going to hurl.

The root of his malaise, Rachel and Brody remained oblivious and simply continued on in their horrifying endeavor of spreading butter over the raw turkey in between them. A task, it seemed, they could not commit to without mutual eyelash batting and whispered flirtations.

_Okay, ew. _

Kurt's eyebrow raised of its own accord as he observed the breeders in their natural habitat. Of course Kurt had known of Rachel and Brody's simmering romantic potential, but this was just embarrassing on their part. They weren't even trying to hide it now, all subtleties flying out the window as they caressed hands and giggled incessantly, all the while stroking the dead flesh of a flightless bird which was soon to be their dinner.

_Hetero flirting is so weird._

"Ok, when you guys are done using the turkey as a courtship device, we need to get this bird cooked," Kurt interrupted briskly. Brody turned to look back at him, grinning and raising his hands in mock surrender, and Kurt rolled his eyes in lieu of chastising him. He pointed at the nearby shabby sofa which served as the official Hummel-Berry living room. "Out, Brody. We both know that only one of us wields the mighty powers of cookery, and that person would be myself."

"Ouch," Brody frowned, leaning backwards against the countertop and crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "That hurt. I'll have you know that I invented that turkey-in-a-bag basting trick myself, and that is a definite sign that I am a chef in the making."

Rachel tutted, striding around the island counter to rest a hand on Brody's bicep. Her hand looked even smaller atop her crush's impressively toned arm muscle. Kurt noticed with unabashed appreciation. "Boys, boys, calm down. Brody, let Kurt work. Help me set the table." Her red-painted lips quirked into sultry smile and she turned to lead Brody away, hips swaying deliberately. With a scoff of appraisal, Brody followed.

_That ass._

Just as Kurt thought it safe to sneak a glance, Brody turned back, momentarily but very suddenly, and Kurt gave himself a mental pat on the back for his cat-like reflexes. Butt-staring? No sweat.

"Next time, I'm cooking." Brody challenged, running a hand through his hair absently and sporting his signature broad grin. _The boy may partake in the stupidest of mating rituals, _Kurt mused, once again following Brody's denim-clad derriere with his eyes, _But damn is he hot._

* * *

"Brody, help Kurt with the plates will you?"

"Wai-what? That wasn't part of the dinner party invitation." Brody shook his head vigorously, but Kurt had already gathered both his and Rachel's well-used utensils in one arm and hooked the other loosely around Brody's elbow to yank him up.

Rachel laughed a fond apology. "Sorry! I just need some air. I have to call the _Glass Menagerie_ director back."

"Oh!" Kurt whistled, widening his eyes at Rachel in encouragement. "Get you gone, quick! I want details."

"You always do," she replied. After snatching up her phone and hurrying to the hulking iron door, a residual fixture from their modest apartment's stint a a warehouse, she tapped four manicured nails against the metal plates and cracked her neck to face the two boys. Brody caught her eye almost instantly and mimed the word _"Help!". _Naturally, this prompted Kurt to smack him hard on the shoulder with a rubber glove. "Won't be a minute, you guys. Behave!"

"Never!" Brody called back.

Kurt winced as the door grated shut. "I hate the sound of that damn door. The minute we make enough money, I am getting it ripped out and replaced by solid oak double doors before I tear out my eardrums."

Brody snorted, glumly passing Kurt a fistful of cutlery to wash. "If you ever come into money, I'm pretty sure you can find better things to spend it on than a new door."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Kurt retorted sharply, shooting Brody a pointed glare over his shoulder. Elbow deep in soapy suds, Kurt resisted the temptation to flick water at Brody if not for any other reason than retaining his maturity.

That is, he was resisting the temptation until Brody reached into the sink himself, plucked out a handful of suds, and without warning smeared them across Kurt's face.

He gasped in shock, arms locking rigid at the elbow and eyes snapping shut instinctively. Brody's soft chuckles were the only sound as Kurt, eyes still squeezed shut, peeled off his washing up gloves to wipe away the worst of the soap. He turned to face Brody. Brody simply grinned wider and laughed harder. Fire flared in Kurt's stomach.

_Oh Hell. Game on._

Immediately Kurt was on the ball. He scooped up a handful of soap suds and made a dive for Brody's head, rubbing the detergent into the roots of his hair fiercely and letting out a staccato of laughter.

"Motherfu-" Brody grabbed Kurt's upper arms in retaliation, voice incredulous and shrill but seeming to mask an evident chuckle. He pushed Kurt's arms down in one swift movement, both boys now laughing equally loudly as Brody pressed Kurt back against the sink counter and-

Hey.

Brody tilted his head slightly, wetting his lips. He'd never noticed it before, but Kurt's eyes were blue. Like, really blue. And the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were pretty cute to be honest.

Kurt had barely noticed the new placement of his hands, now low down on Brody's waist, when he realised how close the two had gotten. Physically close, with Brody's palms flat either side of Kurt and the sink behind him effectively locking Kurt in place. Clumps of foam still clung resiliently to his hair, and he was just now realising that his shirt was damp through with warm tap water, but it all faded from focus now. Brody was staring at Kurt.

No, not staring. Gazing. Into his eyes. And it was pretty intense, if Brody could say so himself.

"You still have soap on your face," he murmured softly, stupidly.

Kurt let out a thin breath. "I know."

What Kurt didn't know, however, was what possessed Brody to look from Kurt's eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes and back to his lips before leaning in and kissing him. Their mouths remained motionless against each other for several stunned seconds before Brody slowly parted his lips, coaxing Kurt's own to follow suit.

Mainly it was the breathing which gave Brody the boner. The way they were just breathing each other in, tentatively peppering soft kisses against each other's lips but never fully committing to it. It was the unexpectedness, the newness of it all.

For Kurt, he wasn't thinking coherently. It was a long time since anyone had kissed him like this. His scrambled thoughts sparked flickering images behind his closed eyelids- images, primarily, of Blaine. Kurt groaned against Brody's lips, quenching the thoughts. Blaine wasn't here. Blaine didn't want him.

Brody did.

Kurt dug his fingers into Brody's hips, finally locking their mouths together properly with a single swoop of his tongue. He needed to taste, to feel Brody respond to his touch and reciprocate exactly as he was doing right now, with his hands cupping Kurt's neck as he kissed him deeper still, their bodies flush against each other and whilst sharing heat, needing more.

When Brody made a soft whimper against Kurt's lips, Kurt thought it was just Brody succumbing to the kiss. He grinned triumphantly, rocking forward into Brody's firm chest, sucking insistently at Brody's lower lip. Blaine had always loved doing that.

Suddenly the warm mouth was gone and now hovered teasingly opposite his own. "What about Rachel, man?"

_Rachel?_

Kurt felt like he'd been electrocuted.

_Rachel._

He lightly shoved Brody's chest, instantly mourning the loss of warmth before cradling his forehead. "Woah," he muttered, barely audible. "I'm a disgusting slut who constantly makes moves on his best friend's potential boyfriends."

Brody looked puzzled. "Wait, boyfriends plural? You make out with Rachel's guys often?"

"I had a crush on Finn once upon a time, and look how that turned out. Step brother." Kurt sighed, frustrated. "Okay, this never happened. Never. I don't know why Rachel is taking so long, but we never made out and this never happened, okay?"

Brody steadied Kurt's shoulders. Kurt hated himself for feeling a pleasurable jolt down his arm where Brody's hands rested. "Calm down. It's alright."

"Why are _you_ so calm?"

"Maybe because I want to keep this a secret as much as you do?"

Kurt nodded tightly. Right. Of course. "Good. We can just dry the plates and-"

"Wait." Brody searched his pockets and unearthed a stubby pencil, a pack of spearmint gum, and his house keys. Kurt watched disbelieving as Brody promptly unwrapped a stick of gum, popped it into his mouth, and then scribbled a phone number and smiley face on the gum wrapper. Grinning, Brody leaned in close enough for Kurt to smell the mint on his breath, letting his hand skim down Kurt's side before plunging the gum wrapper into Kurt's back pocket. He may or may not have squeezed his ass in the process.

Dry mouth. Kurt has one. He let Brody's gaze linger just a moment too long on his lips before finally taking his turn to pose the obvious question: "What about Rachel?"

With a casual shrug, Brody took two steps back and leaned against the island counter opposite Kurt. "What about her? We aren't dating or anything, you know."

"But you promised her you wouldn't fool around anymore."

"No," Brody said slowly, popping his gum (_why is that attractive to me)_. "I promised to not fool around with Cassie anymore. You aren't Cassie."

A scathing reply involving staying loyal to his friend and a good dose of how-could-you- treat-Rachel-like-that was at the tip of Kurt's tongue. It was. But just at that moment, the loud screech of the front door announced Rachel's arrival. She sashayed back into the room with a smile wide enough to split her face open.

"I got the part!"

"Awesome!" Brody clapped his hands and opened his arms in offer of a hug. "Of course you did, Rachel. You're fantastic."

Rachel buried herself into Brody's arms, face totally obscured, and Kurt resented the pang of jealously clawing at his chest. "You really think so?" She asked in a muffled voice.

"Yes," Brody said softly. He looked pointedly at Kurt and winked. "You are definitely fantastic."

Kurt felt his cheeks burn with blood. He allowed himself to shoot Brody back a thin smile.

_Ugh. I really am going to barf._

Kurt spun around quickly to face the newly washed plates. Maybe the heat radiating off of his cheeks would be enough to air dry them. Kurt could not believe this guy. He was not about to become one of Brody's pre-Rachel booty calls. He most certainly was not.

Kurt glanced at the half empty bottle of cheap washing detergent next to the sink, and the scrunched up foil gum wrapper seemed to be glowing red hot in his pocket. He was surprised at how little he was thinking about Blaine, how not guilty he felt. Maybe they weren't meant to be after all. A change might do him good.

_It can't hurt to keep his mobile number handy_, Kurt assured himself.

He incidentally overheard Rachel question Brody's sudsy hairdo and could not suppress a knowing, private smile.

_He owes me washing up liquid, anyway._


End file.
